


Haunted

by RedPensandGreenArrows



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Pining, Romance, Sharing a Couch, tea and talks, they're oblivious dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 17:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16623653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPensandGreenArrows/pseuds/RedPensandGreenArrows
Summary: Alex convinces Dr. Strand to join her and the PNWS staff on their outing to the local haunted house. What could go wrong? But more importantly, what could go right?4 word prompts: “Please, come with me.”





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Black Tapes Podcast does not belong me. All rights belong to Paul Bae, Terry Miles, and those persons associated in the creation of the podcast.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m actually terrified to post this. It’s been months – almost a whole year – since my last fic, and I am writing for a whole new fandom. So, I ask that you be kind; however, I definitely want to hear what you think! I fell in shipper love with Stragan pretty quickly, so I hope I’ve done them justice. I’ve binge-listened to the podcast 3 times already because of them, ha! 
> 
> As to where this falls in the timeline, I’m going to say somewhere between the end of season 2 to the end of hiatus near the beginning of season 3. I know having placed this in October it may not line up perfectly. But I was more concerned about the fic than the timeline. 
> 
> I plan to write more for this ship, but I have no set schedule in mind. My muse can be sporadic at best. I hope you all enjoy, and please leave a review at the end. Thanks!

“Please, come with me.”

The hurried whisper disturbed Richard Strand’s study of the three text books in front of him. Glancing to his right, he found a rather harried Alex Reagan. Her gaze darted back and forth between his and the group of animated PNWS interns across the room. He eyed them as well; they were decidedly too excited.

“No.”

“ _Please_ ,” Alex begged, still in a low tone. “Nic is swamped with final edits for the next _Tanis_ episode, and I already promised the interns I’d go with them to the haunted house. I just know they’re going to try something.”

Strand sighed heavily. “I would comment on the _lack_ of reality in that situation. And how you have absolutely nothing to be afraid of. However, I fear a second bruise joining the one I received this morning.”

Embarrassed, Alex looked away and grumbled beneath her breath. “At least I didn’t hit your writing arm, and would it really kill you to use a synonym for apophenia once in a while.” Turning back, she continued. “I lacked caffeine this morning, and I said I was sorry.”

Strand hummed in response as he packed up for the day. “You should try tea. It’s normally associated with producing a more calming demeanor. Might curb future violent tendencies.”

She ignored his jab and pushed on. “What plans do you have tonight besides more research, Richard? Are you seriously going to tell me you’ll be handing out candy to trick-or-treaters?”

“Waste of time.”

“See! You have nothing going on!”

Alex panicked watching Strand gather his leather messenger bag and head towards the studio lobby. Her chance to convince him was slipping away quickly. Rushing ahead, she cut him off at the elevator.

“Please, come with me tonight. I promise to make it up to you. I’ll help you sort out the rest of your house, I’ll cook you dinner, whatever! _And_ I’ll even let you mock every single room in the haunted house tonight, no complaints.”

Alex was desperate. With the mounting stress from this investigation, and months of little-to-no sleep, her nerves were shot. She tried, so hard, to keep Strand’s voice in her head, telling her that every new connection was nothing more than apophenia, and just crazy stories concocted by delusional cult members, but her fear quieted his voice every time. There were already whispers among the interns about her mental stability. If she cracked tonight, there would be no living it down.

Strand breathed heavily with his lips pressed into a thin line and gave Alex that look that said she was one more prod away from having his annoyance level reach critical. At that level the walls would come down. If she pushed him too far, lord knows how long he wouldn’t speak to her this time. So, she stood her ground and pleaded with her eyes.

Warm hazelnut coaxed its way through his icy blue stare and tugged at his heart until he conceded. After a moment of silent warfare, Strand deflated with a sigh.

“What time shall I pick you up?”

\+ | + | + | + | + 

The interns were ecstatic when they realized Alex convinced Dr. Strand to come. Bets were quickly whispered throughout the group, while they waited in line, as to whether Strand would react to anything in the house or not. Behind them stood Alex and Strand, side-by-side like two parents unwittingly dragged into this Halloween mischief by their children.

Alex worried her lip and buried her hands deep in her jacket pockets. She was beginning to fidget. Strand barely said a word to her since picking her up from her apartment, and the silent treatment was doing nothing for her nerves. She needed a distraction, desperately.

“Thank you again for agreeing to come.”

Strand turned his attention to her and nodded once in response. Then returned to waiting silently in the frigid fall evening.

Alex made a disgruntled noise. “Okay, seriously, you need to talk to me.”

“ _I_ need to talk to you.” His eyebrow raised in question.

“Yes! This silence is driving me insane and doing absolutely nothing to distract me from what we’re about to walk into.”

Strand sighed. “Alex, we’re going to be perfectly fine.”

“Logically yes, but the illogical part of my brain is winning right now. Come on Mr. Walking-talking encyclopedia, teach me something.”

He thought for a moment, and then began to speak. “Did you know that modern Halloween traditions originated from the Gaelic festival of Samhain?”

“I think I’ve heard that somewhere, but I know nothing about the original festival.

“It marked the end of harvest season, many believed that from sunset on October 31st to sunset on November 1st the veil between this world and the “Otherworld” was thin enough for the souls of departed family and friends, as well as the Aos Sí to pass through into our world.”

“The Aos Sí?” Alex was hooked.

“A supernatural race similar to the faerie-folk. They were considered to be the deities or the ancestors of deities from Irish mythology. Bonfires were lit to protect and cleanse those performing the rituals of the festival. And it was believed that the Aos Sí needed to be honored and appeased, so that the people and their livestock would survive the coming winter. This involved leaving offerings off food and drink for the spirits, and large feasts were held to honor and welcome the souls of the departed. Some even dressed in costume, to imitate or disguise themselves from the Aos Sí traveling their land, and they went from house to house trading recited verse for food.”

“Wow,” Alex commented as they took another step closer to the front of the line, “That sounds a lot more fun and beautiful than what we’re about to do.”

“Yes,” Strand mused, “It is quite shocking to witness what historical tradition has morphed into.”

A high-pitched squeal interrupted any further thought or inquiry. “We’re next!” One of the interns exclaimed.

Strand’s whole body sagged in defeat while he felt Alex tense beside him. “I’m free to mock and gripe without complaint?” He lightly teased Alex, hoping to relax her some.

“100%. I believe any and all snark will be very much welcome at this point.”

Alex took a step closer to Strand as the haunted house operator waved their group inside.

\+ | + | + | + | +

Entering the building resulted in little fanfare. The overly dusty foyer resembled an old Victorian style home, and in the muted light colored it in nothing but shades of grey. Quiet. Cold. Deceiving. The group shuffled across the room, glancing this way and that. Just as they were about to cross the threshold into the first hallway, all hell broke loose, and the first costumed actors jumped from their hiding spots out of darkened doorways and from behind false walls.

The interns screamed and laughed as they huddled closer together and charged deeper into the house. Their reactions startled Alex. Releasing a short scream herself, she jumped and unconsciously grabbed ahold of Strand’s arm. The move was unexpected, but not an unwelcome one in his opinion. Not that he would admit that fact out loud.

Like the well-mannered gentleman he was brought up to be, Strand’s arm bent at the elbow, like an escort, and his other hand crossed his body to rest atop one of the hands clutching his bicep.

“You would assume with how they decorated the house, they would theme the actors accordingly and not just have them dressed as stereotypical “scary” Halloween characters for the sake of fear.”

Alex snorted and buried her face in his shoulder, flinching from the abrupt appearance of another actor at her side. Strand eyed the zombified creature with a bored expression. Was that really the best they could do?

This trend continued as they made their way through the house, yet Alex never relaxed her hold on Strand’s arm until they entered a large room that was set-up like a makeshift surgery suite. A deranged doctor was pulling bloodied organs from a conscious and screaming patient. And once every person was inside, more patients in bloody hospital gowns poured in from every open doorway and attempted to break the group up before they moved onto the next room. 

One of the actors jumped up right behind Alex and Strand, startling them apart. The crazed patient then turned his sights on Alex and corned her at the edge of the room. Pure dread chilled Alex to the core. Her vision tunneled, and she saw nothing but the face in front of her. Sickly pale and gaunt, the manic smile covered nearly half of the face, exposing sharp, pointed teeth, and the eyes glowed a sinister red. However, these were the least scary features to Alex, because what stole her breath was the ragged stitching around the face that held it “in place” so that the mouth was where the eyes should be, and the eyes were where the mouth should be.

Color drained quickly from Alex’s skin as she slid down the wall. The fact that Strand noticed this from the other side of the darkened room lit a panic in the pit of his stomach.

“Alex!” he called as he pushed passed two actors who had tried to corner him as well.

Words and sounds were muffled, like she was under water, but Alex swore someone was calling her name. Her mouth opened in an attempt to speak, but all words lodged solidly in her throat. As soon as he reached her, Strand shoved the actor out of the away.

“Hey!” the man exclaimed.

But Strand cared little if he pissed someone off by breaking the “no touching” rule. All he cared about was the stricken woman in front of him.

“Alex. Alex! Can you hear me? It’s Richard Strand, are you okay?”

Visibly shaking, her mouth moved like she wanted to speak, but no words came out. He quickly became aware of her rapid breathing and the fact that she felt cold to the touch. Alex was having a panic attack. Glancing around the room, Strand found the bright red “EXIT” sign, and scooped Alex up bridal style without a second thought. Ignoring the fact that it might set off the fire alarm, he pushed open the door and walked over to the closest park bench outside of the haunted house. He set her down and quickly removed his thicker coat to wrap around her shoulders while he kneeled in front of her. Grabbing one of her hands firmly, he linked their fingers together and with his other he cupped the side of her face to bring her attention to him. He felt the rapid flutter of her heartbeat as his pinkie and ring fingers rested atop her pulse point.

“Alex, I need you to focus. You’re having a panic attack, but I’m going to help you through it. Do you understand?”

She was still shaking, but the sharp nod of her head told him that she heard.

“I’m going to need you to try really hard and copy my breathing. We’re going to breath in for 4 counts, hold for 4, then release for 4, okay?”

Another sharp nod.

Eyes locked, they worked together to breathe through her attack until Strand felt the pulse beneath his fingers beat a calmer rhythm.

“Okay,” Strand breathed a satisfied sigh, “let’s get out of here.”

Gingerly helping her to stand, he wrapped his arm around Alex’s waist and the pair slowly made their way back to his car.

\+ | + | + | + | +

Thankfully the trip back to his house was short. Strand frequently checked the passenger seat to make sure Alex was alright; however, she just sat there quietly with her eyes closed and submerged deep in his pea coat. As soon as he parked the car, he quickly rounded the vehicle and opened the door for her. Allowing her to move at her own pace, his hand at the small of her back kept her steady up the porch steps and into the house.

He helped remove her coats, and then directed Alex to the couch before he disappeared into the kitchen. Alex pulled her legs up and placed her heels on the edge of the sofa. She let her head fall forward to rest on her knees. Wrapping her arms around her legs and she imagined herself small and insignificant. So small, that she was free from the chaos of this story, able to rest without the fear of shadows and nightmares, and no longer a burden on a man who never asked for a highly inquisitive journalist to come into this life. She just wanted to sleep.

The sudden dip in the couch broke Alex’s train of thought and alerted her to Strand’s return from the kitchen.

“Here.” His voice was low and soft as he offered her a steaming porcelain cup. “It’s chamomile.”

A tremulous hand unwound from around her legs and accepted the tea cup. “Thank you.”

Alex took a large sip of the scalding liquid, desperate for something to eradicate the chill from her bones. The pair sat silently, occasionally sipping their drinks. Strand gladly took the time to observe Alex. He itched to inquire about the incident but let her take things in her own time. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.

“You don’t need to keep staring. I won’t spontaneously break down, I promise.”

Strand set his cup on the coffee table. “What happened?”

Never looking his way, Alex made a gesture with her hand to wave off the question. “The actor startled me, and I got overwhelmed. I’ll be fine.”

“Alex.”

Her name was barely above a whisper, and the sound broke her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she attempted to curl her body tighter and fought desperately against the tears threatening from behind her eyelids. “The face… The face on the actor looked like it had been stitched on.”

She paused. He waited.

“But it wasn’t stitched on properly… The mouth was where the eyes should be, and the eyes were where the mouth should be.”

Strand sighed deeply. “Al–”

Alex snapped her head in his direction and pierced him with a sharp look. The pained and blood-shot eyes staring back at him stopped Strand in his tracks.

“Don’t,” she bit out. “Don’t you dare diminish this down to a case of apophenia or a trick of my mind. Do you really think I’m that much of an idiot? That logically, I don’t know everything in that haunted house was 100% fake? Of course I do! I didn’t become an insomniac just for the fun of it!

“I wish, beyond anything, that I could turn my brain off, and just believe everything you say. But I can’t do that, Richard. I’m not like you. I just… I’m just tired.” She swallowed and once again rested her head on top of her knees. “So very tired.”

Strand sat stunned. He never thought his explanations refuting the paranormal made Alex feel less than a sane, logical person. That was never his intention. She was a journalist attempting to remain unbiased in a controversial discussion; however, in his opinion, some talking points brokered no debate. Ghosts and demons just weren’t real. 

“Alex… I’m sorry. That was never my intention.”

She hummed in response, but never moved position. Silence cloaked the pair once more, but after a few moments Strand found he unconsciously moved his hand to the back of Alex’s neck. She tensed beneath his fingers and he froze in place.

“I’m sorry. Coralee…” Strand paused to clear his throat. “When work was stressful, or a paper was particularly frustrating, she found this helpful. Shall I… I mean, may I continue?”

After a beat, Alex nodded against her knees. With his thumb and fingers resting on either side of the back of her neck, Strand massaged in circular motions from the base of her skull to the top of her shoulders. Neither said a word, but as the minutes passed Alex’s shoulders relaxed under his touch.

An hour or so passed of Strand’s continued ministrations and the occasional sips of tea before he finally disturbed the quiet.

“You should try and get some sleep.”

Alex snorted. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Strand frowned at her comment.

“My sleep therapist wants me to have no distractions after 8pm. So, when I go back to my apartment and try to sleep it will be too quiet. And when it’s too quiet I start to think, and when I think, I’ll remember, and then…” Alex sighed. “If it’s not my running thoughts, it’s the shadows in the corner. Sleep does not exist in my vocabulary anymore.”

“This is my fault.”

“Richard, no –”

“Please. You’re welcome to take the couch. I would offer a guest room, but they’re not fully furnished yet.”

“Richard, I… You’ve done so much for me already tonight. I couldn’t impo– 

“Alex.”

Again, the emotion behind her name on his lips caused her stomach to summersault. Strand’s obvious worry warmed her heart even though she desperately wanted to question its meaning.

“You need to rest,” Strand continued.

Before she could say another word, Strand moved himself into the corner of the sofa, propped his socked covered feet up on the coffee table, and placed one of the couch cushions against his leg. Grabbing the TV remoted he turned on a classical music channel, set the volume low, and then turned to Alex.

“Sometimes a distraction is needed. Please let me help.”

Alex should have questioned the situation. Should have thought twice before possibly changing the dynamic between her and the main focus of her latest journalistic endeavor. However, Alex did neither as she moved to lay along the length of the couch and rest her head upon the pillow in Strand’s lap. Grabbing the throw Ruby purchased off the back of the couch, Strand laid it over Alex. When she settled, he relaxed into the couch and began lightly massaging the back of Alex’s neck once more.

“Good night, Alex.”

“Good night,” she whispered, closing her eyes without worry for the first time in months.

\+ | + | + | + | +

Hours later, Strand woke to a blurry world, dimly lit by the rising sun. Righting his glasses, confusion crossed his mind as to why he was sleeping in his living room. Then the weight of the person sleeping next to him shifted and the memories came flooding back. Glancing down, he discovered Alex nestled between him and the back of the couch and now using his chest as a pillow. They must have moved during the night.

Slowly his hand came up and carded lightly through her hair. These growing feelings were unexpected, but not unfamiliar. And a small suspicion he had suspected that they weren’t completely one-sided either. But it didn’t mean that they weren’t dangerous. Alex and he had the investigation and the podcast to consider, as well as their reputations. Would exploring a deeper personal relationship be putting the two of them at an even greater risk until this mystery was solved?

There was also Coralee to consider. Or should she be considered? She was alive, but it _had_ been 20 years. And not a damn word until his life was in literal danger from a mad man with an apocalyptic complex. After Coralee disappeared, Strand was convinced love would never again be in his cards. Ghost might not be real, but second chances were, right? So, why shouldn’t he see where things go with Alex?

Looking down at her again, he felt pure contentment. Sure, she pushed his buttons and could be just as stubborn as he, but Strand never felt such a sense of home until he met Alex Reagan. He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head, careful not to wake her up. There were still a few more hours before he needed to get moving, and he wanted Alex to sleep as long as possible. Removing his glasses and placing them on the side table, Strand relaxed and wrapped his arm Alex, drawing her close. Thomas Warren and his demented lackeys could go ahead and attempt to bring on the apocalypse. But as long as Alex and he had each other, they would fight their demons and bring on the new day.

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> And to answer everyone's burning question: Yes, Dr. Strand was wearing Bombas socks. ;-)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, reviews feed the muse :-). Until next time!
> 
> -RedPens&GreenArrows
> 
> P.S. - you can also find me on tumblr at: redpensandgreenarrows


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